


Icky Monstrosities

by BlueShell



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: And they're gross, BokuAka Week, But it's also fluff, Day 02: Accidents, M/M, There are pimples in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8778955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueShell/pseuds/BlueShell
Summary: Akaashi isn’t laughing because of a joke or a funny prank, he’s laughing because he just found out why Koutarou spent the day with two Pikachu-themed band-aids on his forehead, and, well – he doesn’t know if he should be happy or just embarrassed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Icky Monstrosities  
> Author/Authors: BlueShell (athousandblueshells.tumblr.com)  
> Day/Prompt: Day 02 - Accidents  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None  
> Side Pairings: None  
> Summary: Akaashi isn’t laughing because of a joke or a funny prank, he’s laughing because he just found out why Koutarou spent the day with two Pikachu-themed band-aids on his forehead, and, well – he doesn’t know if he should be happy or just embarrassed.
> 
> Note 01: My second contribution to BokuAka week! Let's see until when I can keep this up. Probably not the whole week.
> 
> Note 02: Last post was weird because it all written and posted on mobile, which sucks terribly. I'm so glad to be back to my laptop.

Akaashi is laughing.

Which, true, it’s kind of a good thing, since Akaashi almost never laughs outright, even though Koutarou tells a lot of awesome jokes and makes great owl puns. (Owlright? Owlright.) But Akaashi isn’t laughing because of a joke or a funny prank, he’s laughing because he just found out why Koutarou spent the day with two Pikachu-themed band-aids on his forehead, and, well – he doesn’t know if he should be happy or just embarrassed.

Embarrassed ends up winning in the end. “ _Akaa-shi,_ you’re not supposed to laugh at my misery!” 

That brings the laughter to a close, Akaashi apologizing between giggles, and Koutarou is already sorry he said anything, except his skin is itching and it’s not – it’s a serious thing, dammit. 

“It’s not good for your skin to cover them up like that, Bokuto-san,” his boyfriend says. He pulls the band-aids off, _rip, rip,_ before Koutarou has any time to protest. “It just clogs up your pores.” 

“But what was I gonna do?” It’s not like he just could come to school with those icky monstrosities on his face. “Mom always says I’m not supposed to pop them!” 

“She’s right,” Akaashi agrees solemnly. Koutarou thought he was going to be more disgusted by the giant pimples, but he seems to be taking it well. 

Then again, it’s Akaashi he’s talking about; once he ate something bad after a practice game in Saitama, and he spent most of the bus ride home with a very stoic expression, before turning suddenly and throwing up on Koutarou’s lap. So yeah, his boyfriend is like a box full of surprises. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” Koutarou whines, taking the band-aids off Akaashi’s hand and putting them by side on the locker bench. “I mean, I could’ve shown up with the pimples in my head and then everyone would say, hey, there’s the captain of the volleyball team, he looks like a big weird pizza, let’s never watch the games again, and we’d lose _nationals,_ Akashiiii!” 

“Bokuto-san, you’re letting your imagination get the best of you again,” Akaashi says flatly. He doesn’t sound nearly as terrified as Koutarou thinks he should, but maybe that’s because he’s searching for something in his locker. 

He pulls out a small blue bottle, and it’s sort of funny how you can know someone for years and still not know what they carry in their locker, right, and Koutarou wonders if he’s ever going to be able to tell everything Akaashi carries in his bag, like know him inside out, lockers and everything, and if his setter will know him back. 

“Will you ever know what’s inside of my locker?”, he blurts out loud, and Akaashi raises one eyebrow, which is generally Akaashi-speak for “what nonsense are you up to now”. Then he is pulling him to the nearest sink, and spreading some of the bottle’s cream on his face. It feels fresh and very good, especially after the hard practice this afternoon, and considering how his skin is all gross from sweat and adhesive. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“Cleaning your skin,” his boyfriend replies. “It’s a facial cleanser, Bokuto-san, and it’s not expensive. You can buy it with your allowance.” 

But why does Akaashi have it in his bag? “Why do you have it in your bag?” 

“To clean my skin.” 

“But your face is already perfect.” 

“My face is not perfect,” Akaashi says, a little crease between his eyebrows, and he raises some of those dark curly locks that Koutarou dreams about sometimes. There, at the line where hair meets skin, there are some blackheads and whiteheads, and a big yellow pimple very close to the arch of his ear. 

Which is weird, because, when Koutarou stopped in front of the mirror this morning, the stuff in his head seemed the nastiest thing ever, but when he is looking at Akaashi’s skin and ear, it doesn’t seem so bad. Hell, it even seems cute. He tells Akaashi so, and his boyfriend sends him a glare that clearly says “you’re an idiot”. 

(But his cheeks are red and he stops glaring before long to turn his head away, so that’s gotta count for something.) 

“Wash your face,” Akaashi instructs, and Koutarou puts his face under the faucet, letting the water fall on him and shaking his hair afterwards like a dog because dogs are cool and he’s always wished he could dry off like that. 

He turns to see Akaashi handing him another bottle, this one white and kind of medicine-like. “What’s this one do?” 

“It’s a gel with salicylic acid. Just cover the pimples with it. And don’t use everything,” he warns Koutarou with sharp eyes, “this is what the dermatologist prescribed to me and I have to go again to get another bottle.” 

The gel is cool in his fingers and smells like the antiseptic mom used to clean his knees with whenever he scraped them. He spreads it over the pimples slowly, because his setter told him to be careful, and it’s a little bit nice, even though inside he is feeling like he swallowed a bucket of lead and his chest is caving inwards. Akaashi had to go to the doctor to get this gel, and he’s giving it to Koutarou to end the skin aberrations. 

“Bokuto-san.” 

Bokuto mumbles.

A sigh, which is Akaashi-speak for ‘God give me patience’. “Bokuto-san, what’s wrong.” 

And Koutarou doesn’t want to speak, because it’s uncool to be whining about this sort of thing to his boyfriend – it’s uncool and unworthy of an ace, not that he’s much of an ace, always having breakdowns, letting his team down when they need him the most. He’s probably not a great boyfriend either, to think of it. Like, here is Akaashi babying him like always, like he is a five-year-old child, and he knows he behaves like that sometimes. 

There’s a shock of cold as Akaashi’s icy hands touch his cheeks, and he almost jumps back because it startles him – but his boyfriend is looking straight into his eyes, that deep scrutiny that feels like Akaashi is an X-Ray machine and is scanning his whole body.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly this time, running his hands over his face full of mountains like a caress.

Koutarou shifts his feet, fidgets a while, but he knows he is a goner. “…You’ve even given me your gel because my face is so ugly.”

That little crease between Akaashi’s eyebrows shows up again, but this time it’s a confused crease. “I’m sorry?”

Deep breaths. Can’t pull his boyfriend down. Have to stay strong. “I’m supposed to be your good-looking boyfriend but my face is full of disgusting pimples and I know they’re disgusting because you’re working so hard to make them go away and I’m disgusting and you should just never speak to me again, OK, Akaashi, I’m gonna leave now.” 

He tries to turn to leave, but a strong hand curls around his wrist.

People say Akaashi never shows emotion on his face, and, OK, Akaashi’s specialty is the flat look and sometimes he even has Koutarou fooled, but right now is all too easy to see what he's thinking; his face is all red again, but this time that little crease between his eyebrows became like four or five lines, and Akaashi’s teeth are biting his lower lip, and the hand around his wrist is trembling and holding him harder. 

“I just tried to clean your skin because you seemed very upset about your pimples,” he says, his voice very very flat, which means he must be very upset himself. “I wish – I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth, Bokuto-san.” 

This isn’t what he was trying to do. “Akaashi, I didn’t mean—” 

His boyfriend’s other hand curls around his other wrist and suddenly Koutarou is pulled closer, and Akaashi is standing on his tiptoes and pressing his forehead against Koutarou’s greasy, pimpled one.

“I wish you wouldn’t put words into my mouth because I’m not gonna fall out of love with you just because of a couple accidents on your skin.”

Whoa.

_Whooaaaa._

Did Akaashi just—

“Did you just say you’re in love with me?”

Akaashi is even redder now, and trying to avoid his eyes, but he nods just a little bit and _whoaaa._

“ _Akaashi—!_ I love you too, Akaashiiii!”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san.” Really, whoever said Akaashi doesn’t show emotion never saw that pleased little smile on the corner of his mouth, which grows wider when Koutarou places kisses on his forehead, and nose, and hairline full of blackheads because Akaashi is the best and his skin is the best and he makes Koutarou feel like he is the best and all that doubt of a moment ago seems to have vanished like it’s never even been there. 

In the end, Akaashi ends up giving him the blue bottle (when he mentions he has to use his allowance to pay Shirofuku back), and writes a lot of reminders to use it every day on Koutarou’s planner. 

And if, the next day, Koutarou feels a little better because, even though there are holes and mountains and geologic formations on his face, his skin smells like Akaashi… well, if that happens, it’s just proof his boyfriend _is_ perfect, despite the little black and white points on his forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> [My Tumblr!](athousandblueshells.tumblr.com)


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